


We Go Up Slowly

by pinkg_nu



Category: Winner (Band)
Genre: 2015 Hiatus, Babysitting, Fluff and Angst, Friends With Benefits, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-20
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-01 01:26:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8601784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkg_nu/pseuds/pinkg_nu
Summary: Jinwoo takes care of his niece and nephew for the weekend and sorts out his relationship along the way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote this because I love Jinhoon, babies, and angst. I also have no self-control.
> 
> NOTE: This alternates between present and past storylines and will continue in the upcoming chapters.

"Just for the weekend, Jinwoo," His sister pleads. "God knows I wouldn't have asked if there were any other options."

Jinwoo, still wiping the sleep from his eyes after being woken up far too early on a Friday morning by the frantic knocking on his front door, tries not to take that as an insult.

His sister has one child in a carrier in the crook of her arm while the other is drooling in its own carrier a few steps behind her. Jinwoo takes in the dark circles under her eyes and the stains on a shirt that has seen better days. 

(He had tried to take her shopping for some nice clothes but she had firmly pushed away the offer.

"They'll just throw up on it anyways,” She says with a reserved chuckle and Jinwoo can sense the horror stories behind that laugh. He decides not to ask.)

His sister explains that she and her husband had been planning a weekend getaway for weeks. However, their sitter had fallen through at the last possible minute. They didn't have time to take the babies to their grandparents or else they would miss their flight. It would be their first time away from the twins so Jinwoo can empathize with the look of panic in his sister's eyes.

He knows she would have preferred other arrangements but he wants his sister to have as a relaxing time as possible — she certainly deserves it.

"Of course, of course! Don't worry. I can do it," He says with as much confidence as he can conjure from his many acting classes. "We aren’t doing much anyways, so I can get the others to help me too. I can do this.”

His sister's shoulders lift from their previous worried slump.

“Thank you so much,” She says, bending to grab onto the straps of the large bag placed beside her feet. Jinwoo hastily takes the bag from her, preventing her from having to wrestle with the bag in one arm and the baby in the other. 

“Everything you need is in the bag. There’s frozen breast milk in the side pocket, be sure to put it in the freezer as soon as you can. There’s formula as well for you to give them during the day. Only feed them the breast milk before they go to bed, they sleep better that way — I don’t know why — they just do. Taeha usually wakes up around 4:00 in the morning to be fed and Junwoo at 6:00. When they cry, they’re either sleepy, hungry, need a change, or all of the above.”

She finishes her rant and looks scrutinizingly into Jinwoo’s eyes. He wonders what she finds there. She takes a deep breath as if she is preparing herself for battle.

“We’ll be back Monday evening. Just don’t kill them and you’ll be fine.”

Jinwoo opens his arms wide, nodding, feeling as if he is in a state of shock, and accepts his fate in the form of two wiggling 3 month-old babies, a stroller, and a diaper bag.

"I can do this,” He says.

She gives him a pained smile and adjusts the strap of her purse.

“I’m sure you can.”

* * *

“So, my sister is pregnant.”

Seunghoon poked his head out from under the covers, his hair greasy and sticking up in odd places. “What?”

“She just phoned to tell me,” said Jinwoo, walking over to the window and opening the curtains to let the midday light stream into the room. Seunghoon groaned and turned away from the offending brightness.

On the way back to Seunghoon’s bed, Jinwoo stubbed his toe on the edge of the desk. 

“Fuck! That stupid desk!” Jinwoo cried out.

Seunghoon kept moving the desk around his room. It seemed like it was in a different place every day. He must have stubbed his toe at least a half a dozen times in the last week.

They had moved out of their previous dorm and into their new apartment a couple of weeks ago. It was a daunting  task , packing up the dorm where they spent hours talking about their boyish dreams of stage lights and screams. It was where they had laughed hysterically and cried hopelessly during the gruelling and uncertain months of the survival competition. It was where they slept peacefully for what seemed like forever after they became WINNER. It was the dorm where they debuted — they didn’t end up staying there often with their breathlessly busy and exciting schedules — but it was their safe haven. It was a place that had seen their best and worst but was comfortable and cozy all the same. It was a good place. It was home.

Leaving it was agitating. Even though their managers insisted that the new apartments were a major upgrade, the fear of the unknown made their shoulders tense at the thought. After months of not promoting, not singing, not doing anything, leaving the place that had held the start of their fame for such uncertainty rattled them to their bones.

They were quiet as they packed their things and even more silent during the first night in their new beds.

It took time for them to become comfortable in the new space. The actual apartment was smaller than expected, the halls narrow and overflowing with their possessions. Boxes littered the floor, never unpacked. Rather than a home, it felt like a warehouse, storing their previous life until they could reclaim it, not knowing if that time would ever come back to them.

Seunghoon’s room was empty for a long time. While they had packed, Jinwoo noticed that there were more garbage bags than boxes beside Seunghoon’s doorway. He watched Seunghoon fiddle with a hat that he had owned since their trainee days before he gritted his teeth and tossed it with finality into the flimsy green plastic.

After Seunghoon’s mass dispossession, he brought only two suitcases and a box with him to the new apartment. He decorated his room in fits and spurts. One day he had lined the cold and hard cement floors of the entire apartment with those foam puzzle mats one would usually find in daycares, claiming that the rooms echoed too much without them. The next week, he got a TV, then a game console, then a desk, then a chair. Slowly, it started looking like someone lived there.

The gradually obtained possessions that filled Seunghoon’s room did not make up for the hollow blackness that filled Seunghoon’s eyes — it had been weeks since Jinwoo had seen Seunghoon’s face form a smile that reached them. Their hiatus had been hard on all of them but it had been especially rough on Seunghoon.

When they weren’t in the studio fruitlessly recording song after song after song only for them all to be denied, Seunghoon was in bed. Jinwoo knew he had trouble getting up in the morning, staring at the wall with cloudy eyes for hours before Jinwoo managed to gingerly wake him up and shove him into the washroom. In the short time that Seunghoon showered, Jinwoo would be the one to strip Seunghoon’s bed of his sheets and put on fresh ones. Seunghoon would let them rot off the bed if Jinwoo wasn’t there to do it for him. Before he heard the water stop, Jinwoo had a bowl, a spoon, a box of cereal, and almond milk placed on the table in front of the TV in their living room. Seunghoon padded out of the bathroom, damp and shirtless, his hipbones visible in his low clinging sweatpants, stopping to give the cereal box a scrutinizing gaze. He always sat down with a scowl.

“I’m not a baby,” He would grumble, snatching up his spoon, white puddles on the table as he poured the milk with hands shaking from hunger.

Jinwoo would say nothing in response. He knew that Seunghoon wouldn’t eat otherwise.

Most of the time, it was just Jinwoo and Seunghoon in the apartment. Mino wasn’t there very often, flitting in and out to film for Show Me The Money, taking longer and longer to convince himself to open the door with each passing week of constant hate being thrown his way. Seungyoon and Taehyun were filming for their dramas or at the studio, writing music with increasingly wild looks in their eyes — maybe he would like this one, maybe this one, maybe this one.

When they weren’t in the studio, they were not doing much at all. Seunghoon and Jinwoo especially didn’t do much but they ended up not doing much together. Jinwoo would always try to make him go for walks, go workout, go for dinner, go to a movie. Seunghoon didn’t talk as much as he used to so Jinwoo filled the silence with mindless chatter. As time passed, they spent so much time in each other’s company that it felt strange when they were apart. 

There were days where the darkness that now hid behind Seunghoon’s eyes consumed him. The others learned to leave Seunghoon alone on those days and let him remain under his cocoon of blankets for as long as he needed. But Jinwoo would set up shop in Seunghoon’s room, watch dramas without his headphones, and let the music and voices break through the thick, suffocating air of Seunghoon’s misery.

Jinwoo mused that misery loved company and it was better than leaving Seunghoon to his own devices, no matter how drained Jinwoo felt at the end of those days.

“Shit! Ow—ow—ow!” Jinwoo moaned, lifting his leg and cradling his throbbing toes. “That _desk_ why did you put it in such an awkward spot?”

Seunghoon propped himself up on his elbows and waved his hand carelessly. “Feng shui.”

“C’mon, get up. Everyone’s gone and I’m having a breakdown. I need you.”

Seunghoon ran his fingers through his hair, arching his long neck as he yawned, his prominent Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed. Jinwoo tried to ignore how distracting that simple movement was. 

“Moody,” Seunghoon said, smirking. “You sure your sister is the only pregnant one?”

Jinwoo stomped over to Seunghoon’s bed and wrenched the pillow from beneath Seunghoon’s head to start hitting him with it, Seunghoon’s pleas for mercy muffled by feathers.

“Obviously, you’re not knocked up,” Seunghoon sniggered, finally managing to wrestle Jinwoo’s weapon away from him. “Seems like you haven’t gotten any in years.”

Jinwoo sighed. “Just shut up and get out of bed, Seunghoon.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Seunghoon said as he swung his long legs from the bed and reached for a pair of pants on the floor. “I shouldn’t tease when you’re overwhelmed like this. How far along is she?”

“Only a couple of weeks,” Jinwoo answered. He finally let his legs give out and collapsed onto Seunghoon’s bed. “This feels so weird. I’m happy for her….” He trailed off.

“But it still feels weird,” Seunghoon finished for him.

“Yeah.”

They sat in silence for a long time, Jinwoo processing the news. Seunghoon remained a sullen yet calming presence beside him.

Honestly, the news was hard to comprehend. This break in Jinwoo’s daily monotony was a reminder that outside life continued on. That good things were still happening. 

For the past few weeks, Jinwoo’s existence seemed to be contained within the walls of their apartment or the YG building. The atmosphere of each space reeked of barely contained terror and desperation. The high from their debut was chipping away like paint until their canvas seemed just as blank as when they were trainees. _He_ said it was a new beginning but it felt like he had slammed the door between them and their fans and locked it.

They all tried to escape that door, Mino going so far as to join a competitive rap competition despite the cold warnings — if only to remind their fans of their existence. 

Jinwoo missed seeing people smile when he sang. He missed it so much. But he missed the spark in Seunghoon’s eyes too, if not more. He missed the things that haven’t had a chance to happen yet, the things that might never happen. More and more fans, bigger stages, more and more music. Seunghoon, maybe, looking at him, holding him — he missed that lost future too.

That sense of indescribable yearning seemed like the only thing Jinwoo had felt in a long time.

* * *

When his sister shuts the door behind her, leaving Jinwoo holding a carrier in each hand, he doesn’t really feel anything at all — maybe it is the shock of unexpectedly having the responsibility of keeping two children alive as his new weekend plans.

What does one do with babies other than keeping them alive? What do babies do? Babies aren’t easy like cats, feed them, pet them, and you can leave them to their own devices without much worry. But babies have innumerable dangers to their own welfare. For example, Jinwoo heard from a friend that if a baby slept in one position for a long time and you didn’t turn them once in awhile, their heads would go flat. They have soft spots and brittle bones. Babies are delicate and helpless.

Why the fuck had his sister entrusted her children to Jinwoo when he often felt just as helpless?

Jinwoo turns his head to look down at the babies sleeping snugly in their carriers, their little faces poking out from their blankets and tiny hats. They’re cute at least. Babies are cute like cats. He can do this.

A furry tail brushes against his leg, startling him and causing him to nearly drop the carriers as Polly curls around his ankle and purrs.

_Shit_ , the cats. Yeah, babies are cute like cats but cats are also dangerous. Jinwoo can visualize all types of mishaps that the cats could perpetrate.

“Hello?” He yells down the hall, looking around desperately for a solution. “Hey, is anyone awake? I have a situation!” 

Mino walks out from his room, yawning and scratching at his hair. He halts when he sees Jinwoo, his eyes going wide.

“Why do you have two babies?”

Jinwoo rolls his eyes.

“Get the pets out of here!” He urges.

Mino opens and closes his mouth, a stunned expression on his face. His eyes wide like a particularly surprised goldfish.

“Put Polly and Barley in Taehyun’s room and Rei and Bei in mine, okay?” Jinwoo starts yelling before he quickly remembers the sleeping babies that he still has suspended in their carriers, held high and out of reach of the cats by his increasingly shaky arms. He lowers his voice into a tense whisper. “Just do it so I can stop freaking out, Mino!”

Mino scurries around the apartment to gather up the four cats, putting two under each arm and waddling back down the hall.

“And shut the door!” He calls after him.

Alright, that one problem has been solved for now. Jinwoo knows that he can’t lock up the cats indefinitely, they learned how to open doors, those little shits. He will have to deal with them later.

Mino returns as Jinwoo is gently placing the carriers down on the floor. Mino crouches down on his knees and cautiously pushes the blanket down a bit to get a better look at one of the baby’s peacefully sleeping face.

“So this is your niece and nephew, huh?” Mino reaches out and touches the plush fullness of the baby’s cheek. “They look like you. Lucky bastards.”

Jinwoo sits down beside Mino in front of the other carrier. He takes off Junwoo’s hat and feels his smooth hair. It’s slightly damp with sweat. Can babies sweat? If babies sweat too much, could they die?

“Mino, take off Taeha’s hat, I think they’re overheating,” Jinwoo orders immediately. It is hot in their dorm, Jinwoo finally notices. Not even five minutes alone with them and he is already letting them die of heat exhaustion.

“How long do you have them for?” Mino asks, still staring at down at Taeha.

“Until Monday evening.”

Mino nods, puts his hands on his hips, and lets out a deep, definite sigh. “Well, I guess this is going to have to be a group effort. None of us know the first thing about babies,” He muses. “Did your sister leave a bag of stuff for them?”

Jinwoo looks around and spots the diaper bag in the corner of the room, he scrabbles up to get it and plops it down in front of Mino.

“First, we need to take account of our supplies,” Mino quips, pulling the bag across the floor and unzipping the top flap.

In a couple of minutes, before them lays an array of clothes, blankets, bibs, toys, diapers (lots of diapers), wipes, a container that puffs out white clouds of powder when they squeeze it (Jinwoo has to physically stop Mino from reenacting _Scarface_ ), empty baby bottles, and a whole collection of items they have no idea how they are supposed to use.

“Which ones are inside clothes and outside clothes?” Mino wonders, holding up a onesie and opening and closing the snap buttons. 

“Does it matter?”

Jinwoo picks up a diaper and opens it up. It has too many flaps and it’s sticky in places. It’s a weird shape and Jinwoo cannot for the life of him visualize how it is supposed to be put on.

Looking over from fiddling with the clothes, Mino flinches back as he sees what is clasped in Jinwoo’s hands.

“I don’t care how much you pay me — I am never on diaper duty, _ever_.”

Jinwoo wrenches open his mouth to retaliate but Mino raises a quick hand to silence him. “They’re yours, not mine.”

“Fine,” Jinwoo huffs, throwing the diaper onto the floor. He might as well accept his fate, since it will most likely rear its ugly and smelly head as soon as the babies wake up.

Mino picks up the supposedly empty bag to start stuffing the supplies back in but feels a weight in both of the side pockets. He unzips one of them and pulls out a baby bottle, a thin milky fluid inside.

“Oh god,” Mino says in horror. “Is this what I think it is?”

Overwhelmed, Jinwoo puts his face in his hands and sinks to the ground.

They suddenly hear a rustling at the front door. Seunghoon appears, his puppy, Haute, scampering in behind him. He pauses as he takes in the sight before him, eyes skimming over the baby supplies strewn all over the floor, Mino clutching a diaper in one hand and a bottle of breastmilk in the other, Jinwoo curled up in the fetal position, and finally to the two babies still asleep in their carriers.

“Jinwoo, did you find these on the street and decide to bring them home with you? Parenthood doesn’t work that way. This type of parenthood will put you in jail.”

Sneering, not feeling Seunghoon’s humour right now, Jinwoo gets up and grabs the bottle from Mino’s slack hand and scoops up the rest, marching to the kitchen to put them in the freezer.

“You’re up early,” He snaps at Seunghoon as he passes him.

“I took Haute on a walk before it became too busy along the river,” Seunghoon explains, picking up Haute and rubbing his head as he coos to him. “Looks like there are other babies in the house now, huh? Don’t worry, I still love you best.”

Jinwoo rolls his eyes and shoves the bottles into any empty spot he can find that’s not taken up by frozen dinners.

Seunghoon decided to get Haute a few weeks ago. A day hardly went by without him moaning about the loss of Ihee, who he gave to his parents to live with them in Busan. She was the type of dog who got too attached to one person and was therefore miserable because he was away so much. Turns out that wouldn’t have been a problem.

Regardless, his parents had grown just as attached to the little chihuahua and refused to relocate her again. So Seunghoon, sulking and betrayed, spent hours on the internet researching different breeds. He finally settled on an Italian Greyhound, lithe and playful.

“He even looks like me!” Seunghoon chimed happily when they picked the dog up from the airport. “He’s going to be a model dog. Haute couture, of course.”

The dog made a huge difference in Seunghoon’s disposition, encouraging him to get out of bed and out of the apartment. Seunghoon could often be found giggling on his belly in the centre of the floor, making Haute chase one of his many toys. Haute with all his puppy clumsiness and energy brought a bit of light back into his eyes. From the second Seunghoon saw him in his little crate at the airport, Seunghoon and Haute were inseparable. He made Seunghoon smile in a way no one had managed in a very long time. That thought left a sour taste in Jinwoo’s mouth.

Jinwoo’s could not help his annoyance towards the puppy, who was cute and sweet but still couldn’t differentiate between his pee-pad and the space just in front of Jinwoo’s bed. He had stepped in his piss and shit one too many times but when confronting Seunghoon about it, he would always say that Haute was a puppy, he’d learn, _stop being so mean to him, Jinwoo._

“Did you ditch me for a dog, Seunghoon? Decided to let him warm your bed every time you feel depressed?” Jinwoo had said one night, finally losing it. He had known that it was a low blow, spurred on by childish resentment at being replaced by something cuter and fluffier.

They started having sex when all their pent up stress and misery finally boiled over. It seemed obvious that the arrangement was just another way for Seunghoon to pass the time. It was hard to not let that fact get to him.

Seunghoon had looked shocked, covering Haute’s ears at Jinwoo’s crude words. “Haute is my baby and you’re not my boyfriend. I thought we agreed on that months ago.”

Jinwoo might have been a little bit more firm in Haute’s discipline after that conversation but he will never admit that he is jealous of a dog.

Anyways, Haute is ultimately good for Seunghoon, somehow able to pull Seunghoon out of that dark place in a way Jinwoo never could, friends-with-benefits or not.

“Is your sister finally going on that vacation she has been talking about?” Seunghoon asks, amused as he watches Jinwoo struggle to fit all of the bottles into the freezer.

“Babysitter cancelled last minute,” Jinwoo grunts.

Feeling a sour mood coming on, Jinwoo slams the door of the freezer, the bottles rattling noisily as it shut with a crash. There is a moment of silence and then a terse voice sounds out from the living room.

“Guys? They’re waking up.”

_So it begins,_ Jinwoo thinks to himself and walks back down the hall with slumped shoulders, ready to meet his fate.

Seeing the babies scrunch up their eyes and smack their lips as they slowly wake up suddenly puts Jinwoo’s situation into sharp focus. He can hear the cats scratching at the doors, there are diapers that he has no idea how to use, there is _breast milk_ in his freezer. And above all, there are two helpless babies in his living room, completely dependent on Jinwoo to keep them alive.

"I can't do this," Jinwoo whines pitifully. "Seunghoon, I can't do this. They are going to die."

His annoyance with Seunghoon gone, Jinwoo turns and presses his face into Seunghoon’s back, both hands clutching the soft fabric of his sweater. Intermittently, he takes a quick peek and peers down at the two babies staring right back up at him, quickly turning his face back into his fabric-softened safe-haven like he's watching a horror movie.

"Oh god, I am going to kill them," He moans. "I don't know the first thing about babies. I didn't baby proof the dorm. My cats have never met a baby. What if they think they're competition? Do we have to declaw them? Oh god, I have to hurt my babies for these babies.”

Jinwoo can feel Seunghoon shake with stifled laughter as he sets Haute down, who starts running towards the babies before he is quickly snatched up into the crook of Mino’s arm. Jinwoo leaves his face buried against Seunghoon's back and gives him a bratty, pitiful punch.

"Stop it," Jinwoo grouches. "This is a matter of life or death."

Seunghoon chuckles and lets Jinwoo snuggle into his shoulders.

“You’re going to help me, right?” Jinwoo asks, his voice muffled by the fabric.

“Only if you’re nice to me,” Seunghoon teases in return.

“I’m always nice to you,” Jinwoo murmurs, pressing his cheek to Seunghoon’s shoulder and pouting.

“Look at it this way,” Seunghoon muses. “You’ve always been complaining about how you never get to spend any time with your precious nephews. Well, now you have the whole weekend!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think I would be responsible for their lives,” He complains.

“Or for wiping their ass,” Seunghoon adds on.

Jinwoo lets out a long, defeated groan and nuzzles back into the cozy place between Seunghoon’s shoulder blades.

“Shit.”

“ _Exactly_.”

It’s going to be a long three days.

* * *

Each day of their hiatus felt excruciatingly long. They got up, sullen and gaunt. Ate their breakfast listlessly. Practiced, composed, sang, and danced, took a whole slew of lessons — all to continued rejection. Finally, they limped home and collapsed into a few hours of fitful sleep, only to wake up and perform the previous day’s reprise.

Rinse and repeat.

So when Jinwoo was cast in a drama of his own, he nearly cried in relief. 

Jinwoo knew he couldn’t help compose, he couldn’t think up a tune to save his life. When the promotions for their debut reached their official end, he went to his manager and asked him to organize drumming lessons, acting lessons, language lessons, dancing lessons, singing lessons, anything. Jinwoo put his head down and became a trainee again, fighting against the persistent but tiny voice wondering if it was him that kept pushing their comeback further and further into the horizon. This drama was an avenue for him to prove that he could do something to benefit his group instead of deter them.

When his script was delivered to the YG building, Jinwoo made special care to not rip the envelope, delicately removing the stack of papers with freshly washed hands. It wasn’t a thick script, but as he flipped through the pages and saw how so much space was reserved for him, he felt a great weight settle on his shoulders. 

He took his script everywhere, underlining important phrases and making countless notes in the margins. He spent hours practicing his lines in the mirror, gauging how every muscle in his face and body moved. He needed to look natural. He needed to know his character so deeply that it became a second skin. He needed do well. He’s wanted this for too long to mess it up.

His character wasn’t an idol. He wasn’t anything special. He worked at a makeup store. Had dreams that had trouble extending beyond his pay check. He had dreams that he thought he wasn’t meant to have.

It scared him, really, how easily he could fit this character’s mould.

Jinwoo’s dreams had been teetering on the brink of nothingness before he was placed in Team A. Jinwoo knew that he was lucky to be placed into a team that had the famous Kang Seungyoon and Lee Seunghoon, the creative and determined Nam Taehyun, the unwavering force that was Song Minho. He was so so lucky that they were kind people too, who never looked down on him, who were patient when it took him a little bit longer to get the lyrics memorized or the steps of a dance in sync with the music. They were kind enough to say nothing the night he cried himself to sleep after he had fucked up in front of everyone. He was lucky that they were talented and passionate, that they lived and breathed to make music and to sing it in front of people. 

His dream may have come true but it was certainly not by his own merit. He knew that much.

He was only filming for five days but those five days were busy and intense. Jinwoo couldn’t help but smile when he entered the apartment in the early hours of the morning and collapsed on his bed to fall into an exhausted and accomplished slumber only to repeat it all over again four hours later — but they were four hours of deep and undisturbed sleep. He felt more energetic and rested than he had in weeks. 

The staff and cast had all been so kind to him. Giving him praise and correction where due, it felt odd to see so many people having a vested interest in his growth and success.

After the last scene had wrapped and the set taken down, the staff had gone out for dinner and drinks. He let the happy buzz from the people around him set the mood. Taking it in and revelling in this accomplishment. It felt amazing after achieving nothing for so long.

It was early in the morning when Jinwoo entered the dorm, sleepily throwing his jacket onto the couch and toeing off his shoes. As he walked to the bathroom, Jinwoo caught a flickering light emitting from the crack underneath Seunghoon’s bedroom door. Jinwoo cautiously opened the door and peered inside. The lights were off but Jinwoo could see a dark silhouette, the edges of Seunghoon’s body illuminated by the glare of the TV in front of him. 

Seunghoon was watching an animation on mute. Jinwoo couldn’t recognize it but the bright flashing colours of the characters reflected on the walls and glinted off of something clutched in Seunghoon’s hand.

Jinwoo sighed and crawled over Seunghoon’s bed to carefully take the bottle of soju out of his hands. He gathered up the other empty bottles and placed them in a line on his dresser. Three bottles in a row.

“Nice of you to come back,” Seunghoon smiled at him drunkenly. “I missed you.”

He flinched when Jinwoo sat down beside him and placed a cold hand on his heated and sweaty forehead. Seunghoon had never done this before. Usually, Seunghoon was a social drinker, and even then, he didn’t drink much. He had said once that he preferred to remember the drunken antics of the people around him. Better to use for black mail, apparently.

This, Seunghoon getting drunk alone, this wasn’t normal.

“Did I drink too much?” Seunghoon said suddenly, his eyes going wide and surprised as if he had just seen the three bottles for the first time.

Jinwoo chuckled, trying to smooth the worried lines on his face. “You drank three bottles of soju and you’re a light-weight, what do you think?”

Seunghoon swayed as he nodded, contented with Jinwoo’s words. He tried to push away the hair that had fallen in his eyes with clumsy hands until Jinwoo batted them away and did it for him.

“I was listening to the songs I made,” Seunghoon explained, nodding down to where his phone and earbuds were a tangled mess on the floor.“I really like them. It made me sad.”

The silence stretched on. The both of them stared ahead, unseeing, at the blurs of carefree and innocent colour on the TV while they lamented the achey weight of this strange and helpless new-found adulthood.

“I wonder if he even bothered listening to them,” He murmured after a stretch of time.

Jinwoo didn’t know what to say.

In the first few months of their hiatus, Seunghoon wrote the most songs. He was excited to present something new and fresh, to live up to the praise that they had so unexpectedly but so plentifully received during their debut. But as each song that Seunghoon submitted was neither approved nor denied, his enthusiasm waned and he reverted into a state of bitter resolve.

Gradually, Seunghoon stopped making songs altogether and most of his days were spent in some dark corner of the YG building or in the dorm wrapped in his comforter.

They worked themselves to exhaustion for what felt like nothing and there were times when the five of them would merely sit in silence and revel in the nothingness of this seemingly endless limbo. They put all of their yearning and pain into their music and presented themselves on a platter for the CEO to brush aside. To put in that much effort and to get such apathy in return, it left them all without any ideas about what to do next. It was a terrible crossroads.

It was even more terrible to see the man who had once danced and performed with such energy and passion sit on a messy bed, shoulders slumped like a broken doll — it was almost more than Jinwoo could bear.

“I don’t know if I want to do this anymore,” Seunghoon uttered. His voice was tight like a string, the weight of unfulfilled promises and halted ambitions lied heavy on each syllable. Jinwoo knew that if he spoke, his words would only be empty and placating. Instead, he allowed Seunghoon to rest his head on his shoulder and let his drunken and spinning world straighten, if only a bit.

Not being able to stand the dank smell of alcohol and broken dreams on Seunghoon’s breath any longer, Jinwoo grabbed one of Seunghoon’s arms and put it over his shoulders. With a supporting arm around his back, Jinwoo heaved up Seunghoon’s drunken weight and started the long trek to the bathroom.

“I can’t wait to see you on TV,” Seunghoon said with a wobbly smile as Jinwoo set him down on the closed seat of the toilet. “You are gonna be great, hyung. You always have been.”

Jinwoo let out a shaky breath and turned on the sink to run a washcloth under the warm stream of water. He took Seunghoon’s hands in his and rubbed away the sticky remnants of alcohol off his fingers. Folding the cloth in half, he wiped away any sweat and grime from Seunghoon’s face and neck. Seunghoon leaned into the pleasant warmth of the damp washcloth, with a contented hum.

“Can you brush your teeth?” Jinwoo asked, grabbing Seunghoon’s toothbrush to put a dollop of toothpaste on the bristles before handing it to him and grabbing his own.

Seunghoon grunted and shoved the toothbrush in his mouth, scrubbing furiously until he saw Jinwoo staring at him. He gave Jinwoo a frothy smile, a bit dribbling down his chin.

Snorting, Jinwoo turned and brushed his own teeth quickly in order to offer a supporting hand as Seunghoon stood up on shaky legs to spit the toothpaste into the sink and wash his mouth out.

“Back to bed?” Jinwoo asked.

Seunghoon nodded sleepily, putting both of his arms around Jinwoo’s waist and nestling his face into the crook of Jinwoo’s neck.

“Let’s go to yours,” Seunghoon mumbled. “Your sheets are softer than mine.”

“That’s what you get for buying the cheapest sheets you could find at IKEA,” Jinwoo scoffed.

“They were on sale,” He retaliated.

“They feel like plywood. I invested in my 1000 thread count. I have no regrets.”

“You got ripped off by the little old lady in that boutique, that’s what you did.”

“I was supporting local business.”

They bickered until Jinwoo deposited Seunghoon in a lump on his bed. Seunghoon immediately wiggled his way under the covers, only a few tufts of his hair visible from above the duvet. 

“What if I throw up in the morning?” Seunghoon asked, poking his head out with his chin tucked over the blankets, wide, child-like eyes peering up at him.

“Then you throw up. You’ll feel better afterwards.”

Seunghoon gulped, his prominent adams apple bobbing up and down with anxiety. Jinwoo let his resolve shift. Quickly changing into his sleep clothes, Jinwoo went to the kitchen to fill up two glasses of water and grab a couple of pain killers. He returned to his room to find Seunghoon curled up on his side with Rei settling down beside him.

“You look like a sausage casing,” Seunghoon giggled, scratching the purring cat behind the ears. “You’re cuddly, though. A cuddly, slinky sausage.”

Jinwoo set down the glass of water and pain killers onto his beside table.

“Take these with the water,” He ordered. “Hopefully that will help you not wake up with a terrible hangover.”

Seunghoon obliged dolefully, swallowing the pills and lifting the glass to take a few swigs to wash them down.

“Drink all of it,” Jinwoo said, crossing his arms and tapping his feet expectantly.

Raising his eyebrows at him, Seunghoon finished off the water, tilting his head back to let the last drops trickle into his mouth. He smacked his lips and held out the empty glass expectantly.

“I take it back,” grouched Jinwoo, snatching the glass away from him. “I hope you have the worst headache in the morning.”

Jinwoo settled in beside him, grabbing the blankets which were mostly on Seunghoon’s side and wrenching them away until they were evenly distributed. He curled up on his side, his back facing Seunghoon as he stared at the blank wall ahead of him. He was starting to feel the overwhelming exhaustion of a long day of working and celebrating spread over him, weighing him down into the soft embrace of his mattress. Snuggling into his pillow, Jinwoo enjoyed the smooth and cool fabric of his sheets.

Getting to sleep was usually such a hardship that on some nights, Jinwoo wouldn’t try at all. He slept better when he was busy. It was a gloomy realization that these five nights had provided him the best sleep that he had in months.

He was just letting his eyes close, letting sleep take him, when he felt an arm curl around his waist and a warm chest press up against his back. Seunghoon pressed their bodies close, their bony ankles knocking against each other as he tangled their legs. Jinwoo tensed and was about to turn around and shove Seunghoon off of him with an elbow until he felt trembling puffs of breath against his neck.

“Thank you,” Seunghoon whispered. “For taking care of me. I’m sorry for being a brat and getting drunk. I’m sorry for being so sad.”

It felt really good to be held this way but Seunghoon was drunk and miserable. He needed comfort. Seunghoon didn’t like to talk about his emotions. He would never hide how he felt, if he was sad or angry, they would all see it on Seunghoon’s face, but Seunghoon rarely verbalized it. The corners of Jinwoo’s mouth twitched and he settled back into Seunghoon’s chest, revelling in the warmth between them, of Seunghoon being so close, of Seunghoon trusting him enough to say these things.

It was strange how Seunghoon could make his heart ache and flutter at the same time.

“It’s okay,” Jinwoo said soothingly. “You’re going through a hard time right now. It’s okay.”

Seunghoon pressed his cheek into the dip between Jinwoo’s shoulder-blades. Against his back, Jinwoo could feel Seunghoon’s chest rise and fall as he took deep, steadying breathes to calm himself. He remained still and let Seunghoon take the comfort that he needed. If Jinwoo could be there for him, he would, always and in whatever way.

“I’m scared,” Seunghoon muttered, his voice cracking and body shuddering. “I don’t even know why. I’m scared all of the time.” 

Jinwoo clenched his eyes shut, not able to stay still and impassive any longer, and grabbed at Seunghoon’s hand resting on his belly, threading their fingers and holding on tight. 

He was scared too. He was scared that his drama would be so terrible that they wouldn’t air it and he’d never be cast again. He was scared of never being good enough, that all his countless hours of work were useless. He was terrified that the rest would finally realize that he was a burden, that they would leave him.

For all of Jinwoo’s own fears, he knew Seunghoon had it the worst. Seunghoon was good at rapping, he was good at dancing, he was good at singing, he was funny and quick witted, but he was left twiddling his thumbs. He was given no avenue to express his talents and yet Seunghoon worked himself so hard that Jinwoo thought there wasn’t much room for improvement. Seunghoon was a perfect triple threat. 

It must be maddening to possess that much ability and yet be unable to do anything. At least Jinwoo had been given the chance to fail. At least Jinwoo could be scared of something. Seunghoon was left in the dark, forcing him to look face first into a nameless fear, a fear of nothing — of doing nothing, of being nothing.

Jinwoo held Seunghoon’s hand a little bit tighter. He could feel Seunghoon’s breathing get slow and deep, his chest rising and falling as he fell asleep. Looking down at their hands, Jinwoo’s slender fingers intertwined with Seunghoon’s thicker ones, he thought that Seunghoon couldn’t be more wrong — he would never be nothing, because to Jinwoo, Seunghoon was everything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More chapters to come! Stay tuned!


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE:
> 
> The news of Taehyun's departure from WINNER was heartbreaking for me, as I am sure it was for many of you. I contemplated whether I should continue this story at all. Things have changed so much in such a short time. We're all dealing with the news in different ways and writing has helped me. I hope that we can support both WINNER and Taehyun in the future. I hope that we can heal and become stronger through this.
> 
> As this story is (very) loosely based off canonical events, Taehyun will of course feature. Taehyun will always be a part of WINNER's story, thus he will always be a part of mine.

Jinwoo finds himself on the floor, leaning up against the couch with a wiggling baby in his arms. Beside him, Seunghoon holds the other baby up to eye level as he sits on the plush carpet. His hands wrap around the baby's shoulder, fingers forming a bridge to support the baby's neck.

"How do you know which is which?" Seunghoon asks. "Your sister dressed them the same."

“Taeha has more hair, see?” Jinwoo explains, reaching over and ruffling the silky black fuzz. “And they’re fraternal, they don’t _look_ the same.”

Seunghoon gives him a look that suggests he thinks otherwise. He turns Taeha to the left and then to the right, examining the rolls of baby-fat along the creases of her arms and under her chin. Taeha flaps her arms, her pudge jiggling as she flails. Seunghoon smiles, amused.

“Babies are so funny, don’t you think?” Seunghoon ponders. “They’re just trying to figure out how everything works.”

He brings Taeha closer and rubs their noses together.

“Arms are weird, I know. You’ll figure them out eventually. I was twenty-one when I finally got them working right.”

Taeha starts fussing in his hold, she probably feels insecure about being held in the air by this stranger. Seunghoon shushes her, bringing her down to rest on his chest. He places one supporting hand underneath her rump, the other rubs the baby’s back gently.

Jinwoo’s heart starts pounding. He can’t look away from the sight of Seunghoon bending his head to whisper condoling words into Taeha’s ear. His hair is a shiny auburn in the morning light and his chest looks alarmingly broad with a tiny human resting on it.

It’s not fair how Seunghoon manages to look so attractive while holding a baby. He somehow looks hotter than when he’s in bed. Jinwoo’s cheeks feel hot. Goddammit, he doesn’t even _have_ ovaries, how is he experiencing baby fever?

Thankfully, Taehyun coming out of his room is ample distraction from Jinwoo’s dilemma. Taehyun is already dressed, headphones snug in his ears as he nods his head to some slow, indiscernible beat. He always listens to music with studious precision, taking apart the chords, the instrumentation, the lyrics until he finds its soul and then he dissects that too.

They all know that it’s a bad idea to break Taehyun from his concentration but today they have two babies in the apartment and it’s kind of a big deal.

Taehyun doesn’t spare them a glance as he strides into the kitchen to get a glass of water and a late breakfast. As he’s walking back past them, Seunghoon once again holds up Taeha to stand atop his thighs. He steadies Taeha’s shaky legs by wrapping his hands around the baby’s upper arms, resting Taeha’s back against his chest. Waving Taeha’s arms in grandiose motions, Seunghoon greets Taehyun with the help of his tiny, chubby marionette. 

Seunghoon nudges Jinwoo to do the same and soon they both try to muffle their laughter as they attempt to gain Taehyun’s attention via baby, their target pensively chewing on his food, totally engrossed in his music.

Taehyun catches their movements out of the corner of his eye, looks back down to his food, and then quickly does a second take, dropping his spoon at the sight before him.

“Babies?” He gapes. “Why are there babies? Is this your niece and nephew?”

Seunghoon smirks and cuts Jinwoo off before he can say anything.

“Nice of you to join us, Taehyun,” He quips. “Meet Taeha —” he motions proudly to Junwoo and then to Taeha “— and Junwoo. Aren’t they precious?”

Placing a firm arm around Junwoo’s middle, Jinwoo uses his free hand to lightly slap Seunghoon over the head. “They’re fraternal!” 

“Not in front of the children,” Seunghoon gasps, pulling a pained expression as he covers Taeha’s eyes.

Jinwoo puts his hand over Junwoo’s eyes and hits Seunghoon again.

“Ignore this idiot,” Jinwoo says to a very confused Taehyun.

Taehyun cautiously removes his earbuds, his gaze flickering between Junwoo and Taeha who are both wiggling furiously in Seunghoon and Jinwoo’s grip. His eyes soften and he breaks into a smile.

“Jinwoo, they’re so much cuter than the pictures,” Taehyun exclaims, forgetting his breakfast and his music and joining them on the floor.

“Can I hold him?” Taehyun asks earnestly, reaching out to the baby in Jinwoo’s arms with that pleading look that Jinwoo could never resist.

“Of course,” Jinwoo answers and hands the baby over to Taehyun. Taehyun cradles Junwoo in his arms, supporting his head in the crook of his elbow. They both gaze at each other silently, seemingly entranced with this interesting new person in front of them. Taehyun runs a curious finger down the bridge of Junwoo’s button nose and across his smooth cheek. 

Junwoo tries to grab at Taehyun’s finger, missing each time and flailing in adorable frustration. Relenting, Taehyun lets Junwoo wrap a tiny fist around his comparably thick finger. Taehyun leans in close and counts the five wee fingers and bitty nails. Getting tired of Taehyun’s examination, Junwoo starts flailing again, moving Taehyun’s hand around in an uncoordinated and sporadic dance.

Taehyun looks like he’s melting.

“He’s just so small. Everything about him is small,” Taehyun gushes. “I want to protect him. Why do I feel like this?”

“Latent mothering instinct,” Seunghoon chimes in.

They’re all laughing when Mino enters the room again, freshly showered with a towel slung around his neck. He sits down beside Taehyun and joins him in their appreciation of the cuteness before them.

They end up having a competition over who can make Junwoo smile first. They pull clownish faces and make nonsensical squawks to no avail. Mino ends up winning by chance, suddenly sneezing loudly which makes Junwoo erupt into a giggle that contains more spit than laughter.

Taehyun whines about how accidents shouldn’t count but ends up joining Mino in making more and more grandiose fake sneezes in order to keep up Junwoo’s contagious gurgles of joy.

Looking back over to Seunghoon, Jinwoo notices that Taeha has fallen back asleep on Seunghoon’s chest, a little hand fisted into his t-shirt, a damp spot of drool on the grey fabric. Seunghoon doesn’t seem to mind though and keeps running a gentle hand up and down Taeha’s back as he watches Mino and Taehyun’s antics with an amused grin.

Seunghoon catches Jinwoo staring at him and smiles, his eyes glinting with mirth.

“See?” Seunghoon says, “It’s not that bad.”

Jinwoo can’t help but smile back at him.

“Hey, where’s Seungyoon?” Taehyun asks, not taking his eyes off the baby as Mino engages Junwoo in a gripping altered game of Hide-and-Seek which Mino has dubbed _Hide-and-Sneeze._

“I was sleeping in,” The man himself answers, padding into the living room, his face puffy and his eyes still half-closed “Stayed in the studio late again.”

Taehyun nods his head and hums and starts poking at Junwoo’s chubby, giggling cheek.

“Sister couldn’t find a babysitter?” Seungyoon asks as he grabs a banana from the kitchen and sits down beside Seunghoon. He gives Jinwoo a knowing look at Jinwoo’s nod and he places his palm along the breadth of Taeha’s head, feeling the soft baby-fuzz.

Across the room, Junwoo is starting to get tired of Mino’s game and instead of laughing at each sneeze, he just frowns, his full bottom lip stuck out in a befuddled pout.

“Why is everything they do so cute?” Taehyun cries as he clutches Junwoo to him and kisses his cheeks. “I haven’t felt this way since I adopted Barley and Polly.”

Mino just snorts and scoots up beside Jinwoo against the couch and grabs the remote to turn on the television. It’s some movie channel from last night when Mino had given up on writing lyrics for the day and decided to treat himself and lie on the couch for eight hours until he passed out, empty chip bag in hand.

It’s all good and fine and Jinwoo can’t judge Mino for doing it because he spends an equal amount of time playing games on his phone or his desktop (much to Seunghoon and Seungyoon’s chagrin). 

The only problem is that it’s one of those video on demand channels that play rated films — the television flickers on to display two people in the midst of a steamy, passionate sex scene. Mino must have thought he could get away with pulling one off in front of the big screen in the dead of night. The pervert.

Their _parts_ aren’t even censored.

“OH MY GOD! MINO! TURN IT OFF!” Taehyun yells but then he immediately quiets when he realizes that he is still holding Junwoo and Taeha is sleeping peacefully on Seunghoon. “Turn it off!” He whispers.

Mino bolts up and starts searching desperately for the remote.

“I must have thrown it behind me! I don’t know where it is!” He panics.

“It’s probably wedged in the cushions,” Seungyoon says as he helps Mino in his urgent quest.

Another glance at the TV shows that the twosome has quickly become a threesome.

“At least cover their eyes for heaven’s sake!” Jinwoo says, joining Mino and Seungyoon.

They rip out the cushions and throw them to the floor. There are many lost treasures found underneath the cushions (“My tamagotchi!”) but none of them are the remote.

The situation get increasingly hopeless as the threesome starts trying to fit things where they should not go.

“Oh god, oh god, oh god,” Mino moans — almost as loud as the moans that are now emitting from the speakers. “Will I have to pay for their therapy?”

“Pay for your own!” Seungyoon chastises. “I can’t believe you watch that shit.”

Mino’s hair is messy and he looks a little deranged as he whirls the couch cushions to the ground.

“I have _needs,_ ” He spits.

Haute takes the opportunity to start barking from behind Seunghoon’s closed door. Taehyun, as a last resort, puts his hands over Junwoo’s eyes and sings Fantastic Baby at the top of his lungs. Seungyoon and Mino are bickering loudly as they scrape the couch away from the wall to look underneath. 

It’s chaos and confusion and strange sex noises and then Taeha starts grunting and wiggling atop Seunghoon’s chest.

“That’s it,” Seunghoon growls decisively amidst the racket, standing up and handing Taeha over to Jinwoo. He walks to the TV, pulls off his shirt, and throws it over the obscene images.

Mino finds the remote a few seconds later (it had indeed slid behind the couch). Pointing the remote at the TV with a shaking hand, he turns the television off with a decisive click of the button.

The living room is still and silent except for their panting breaths and for Haute’s faint whining.

Seungyoon, Mino, and Taehyun are all staring at the black television screen, their mouths hanging open in shock as they process what just happened.

Jinwoo is staring at Seunghoon’s bare torso (which is looking much more defined than he remembers) and is trying not to drool as much as the baby is drooling on his shirt. Seunghoon isn’t shy about his body and can regularly be seen around the apartment in nothing but short shorts. Jinwoo has seen what’s under the shorts too. He’s seen what’s under the shorts in bed but there’s something about Seunghoon risking partial nudity for the sake of protecting the innocent that makes it all the more alluring. 

Seunghoon is staring at Jinwoo staring at his abs. He has that smug look on his face like he knows exactly what is going through Jinwoo’s head. He takes his time sliding his shirt off of the dark screen, his fingers toying with the seam as he looks at Jinwoo through the bangs falling over his eyes.

He quirks one brow and grins. There isn’t a remote to turn off what’s happening in Jinwoo’s thoughts.

“Maybe you should keep it off?” Jinwoo blurts out and Seunghoon lets out a surprised and pleased chuckle.

“Oh, gross!” Mino looks more disgusted with their display than what he had just seen on the television. He sits in a heap on the couch and whines, “Jinwoo, you’re holding _a baby._ ”

“You’re one to talk, you pervert,” Seungyoon shoots at him. “How do you think that baby got made, Mino?”

“Thank you for enlightening me,” Mino bites back, covering his blushing face with a couch cushion. Like Mino is one to claim innocence. “Did you decide to stop being an idol and become a biologist?”

“Hmm, I guess it would mean steadier work.”

“I wouldn’t hire you. Dick plus dick does not equal baby.”

“Well, you’re a dick and a baby.”

Jinwoo lets them keep on bickering and watches the shift of Seunghoon’s muscles as he puts his shirt back on.

“Do you think we should feed them?” Seunghoon asks after his head is the through the hole of his shirt, his hair tousled appealingly. “How do you tell if they’re hungry?”

“They cry,” Seungyoon offers.

Mino peeks out from behind the cushion. “What about if we need to change their diaper?”

“They cry.”

“If they’re sleepy?” Taehyun pipes in.

“Cry.”

“ _Dying?”_

“They’d cry and then they…wouldn’t,” Seungyoon trails off. “Shit, I don’t know. I’m the one who’s an only child.”

“No one’s going to die,” Seunghoon says firmly and looks over his shoulder to gives Seungyoon a dark glare before he lopes over to Jinwoo, coming in close until Taeha is caged between their chests. He leans over Taeha, takes one of Taeha’s tiny hands in his and put the other on Jinwoo’s waist. He bends down close enough to whisper into her little ear. “I promise that we will be the five best pseudo-parents we can be.”

“I appreciate your dedication,” Jinwoo says in a tight voice as he tries to still his fluttering heart. “I need all the help I can get.”

“Well, I’ve already failed them as a fake-father,” Mino croaks. “So, it’s up to you guys to help them turn out right.”

“We still don’t know how traumatic experiences effect our genes,” Taehyun comments idly, still playing with Junwoo’s hands and feet. “You might have changed them for good, Mino.”

Mino’s eyes go wide and horror-struck. “Are you serious?” 

“Epigenetics,” Taehyun shrugs.

“My friends are biologists with a vendetta against me. I hate you all.”

“They’re okay, right now,” Jinwoo says, finally diffusing the situation. “They’re safe and healthy and they’ve been here for two hours and they’re not dead. We’re doing well, right?”

“You’re doing great,” Seunghoon answers seriously.

“We were all unprepared for this,” Jinwoo continues, tightening his hold on Taeha. “We weren’t ready, but it can’t be that bad if we work together. I’ll change their diapers and calm them down when they start wailing at odd hours of the night. They’re my niece and nephews, so I understand that it’s my responsibility. I just need you all to help me not have a breakdown and take care of my cats.”

Taehyun’s eyebrows tilt up empathetically. “Of course, hyung.”

“We’re here for you,” Seungyoon says resolutely.

“I’ll even take the dirty diapers out to the garbage,” Mino adds solemnly, like that offer is an act of penance.

Jinwoo takes a deep breath and nods, feeling a bit more steady regarding the situation. At least he’s not alone.

“Let’s get out some mats and blankets for them to sleep on,” Jinwoo declares and watches Seungyoon and Mino as they go to their bedrooms and gather their extra blankets.

In minutes, there is a nice and cozy nest in the centre of the floor. Taehyun and Jinwoo gently place the babies into the pile of fuzzy fabric. Taeha is still sleeping soundly and Junwoo’s lids take longer and longer to open every time he blinks.

“Is it okay if I go to the studio?” Taehyun asks once the babies are settled. “Will you be alright on your own?”

“I’ll be fine,” answers Jinwoo as he curls up on the couch and stares down at the two sleeping babies. “I have Seunghoon.”

Seunghoon gives a salute from the kitchen and Taehyun leaves the living room with a laugh. In a few short minutes, he’s dressed and ready, closing the door as quietly as he can behind him. Mino follows soon after, planning to spend a rare day off with Jihoon and Hyuntae. Seungyoon retreats back into his room with the pets in tow, the strum of his guitar a faint sound from underneath the crack of his door.

Jinwoo watches the babies until Seunghoon sits down beside him and nudges his shoulder to hand him a cup of tea. They sit side-by-side, their thighs pressed up against each other comfortably, their hands curled around the warm mugs.

“You have me,” Seunghoon says after a little while, as he takes a sip of his tea, a proud smile on his face.

“You better not let me down,” Jinwoo replies and, taking a chance, drops his head onto Seunghoon’s shoulder.

Together, they sit in silence and watch the babies dream.

* * *

Jinwoo had not had many relationships. Living on a small island where everyone knew everyone and then going straight into the entertainment industry did not help matters.

He could count his romantic and sexual experiences on one hand. His first kiss was behind his small elementary school when he was thirteen (the girl had assessed her male classmates and decided his lips were the best). His first relationship happened after he had moved to Gwangju — Jinwoo liked a boy and the boy liked him back and it was the most terrifying and wonderful thing Jinwoo had ever felt but their relationship never surpassed anything other than playing video games together and trading short, guilty kisses in the dark.

When he became a trainee at YG, he was too tired and haggard to think about boys and kissing until he caught another trainee looking at him. The boy was tall and skinny just like the other trainees. He had been training for a while and it showed — where the newer trainees were wide-eyed and hopeful, this boy was serious and cynical. He shook Jinwoo’s hand, introduced himself as Sejun, and said that Jinwoo would be kicked out eventually with the rest of them but to at least enjoy the free food. He laughed at Jinwoo’s wide, stunned eyes and pinched his cheek.

“I thought YG didn’t have visuals?” Sejun teased him.

They ended up practicing together a lot and despite the boy’s stoic nature, Jinwoo could see the disappointment of a dream steadily being lost. He felt bad for him. He couldn’t do anything about it, he was gripping onto his own dream by the skin of his teeth, but he could at least offer his company.

They spent a lot of time together, practicing together and eating together, which was pretty much all they did these days. Sejun was nice, if a bit rough around the edges, he was a rapper, he wrote pretty good lyrics, and was an adequate dancer. His father was a teacher and his mother worked at a florists. He said he became a trainee because he wanted to be rich and could hold a note. 

Sejun was harsh yet boring, always sidling up to him, droning on about how tired he was, and making fun of the other trainees’ ridiculous attempts at dressing cool (not looking at their own, equally ridiculous outfits). But Sejun wanted to be in Jinwoo’s company whenever possible, sitting beside him and brushing their shoulders. He would look him in the eyes when he talked. That was good enough for him when most people wouldn’t give Jinwoo the time of day.

Sejun was let go from YG two months later. All the other trainees who were living in the dorm with them continued life as usual, ignoring the loud sound of Sejun packing, staring emptily at their computers or game consoles as if nothing had changed while in the backs of their minds, they were imagining their own demise.

Jinwoo got up and quietly padded to Sejun’s room. Lifting his hand, he gently knocked twice. Sejun opened the door on the second knock, leaning against the door frame and motioning Jinwoo to come in. Before the door even closed, Sejun had crowed him against the wall and kissed him roughly.

“I can’t have this,” Sejun whispered shakily and gestured to his room, to the vestiges of his life as a trainee. “But I can have _this,_ can’t I?”

He kissed him again and again. He shoved at Jinwoo’s shoulders, digging his back into the wall. Jinwoo didn’t really know what to do with his hands. They remained fisted in the sides of Sejun’s thin and ragged t-shirt.

Sejun kicked him out of his room right after, dazed and clutching a phone number clumsily written on a piece of paper. On the rare occasion that Jinwoo didn’t want to be in the practice room any longer, he would call Sejun and stay over at his new, dilapidated apartment. 

Sejun never told him what he was doing now. They didn’t speak much at all. They fucked mostly. After the first time, Jinwoo had to cut his dance practice short because it hurt too much to move. It got better after the first time, enough that Jinwoo looked forward to their encounters, if only to burn off the ever-building stress that constantly rested on Jinwoo’s weary shoulders.

When Sejun did talk, in the sweaty after-glow on his old mattress, he talked like Jinwoo would soon be joining him in this squalor, like he was excited for that to happen. 

The way he talked left a sour taste in Jinwoo’s mouth. 

Jinwoo called it quits after four months, Sejun was starting to be bitter the longer Jinwoo lasted in the company. One day, Sejun broke, backing Jinwoo up into a corner and asking him whose cock he was sucking, that there was no other way they would let someone like him stay while Sejun was kicked out. That he was only there because he was pretty.

Jinwoo hadn’t hesitated to slap Sejun in the face, gather his clothes, and leave. It was too late to take a bus and so he spent two hours walking back to the dorm, fuming. But Sejun’s words rang in his ears long after that night. Every time he messed up a line or missed a step, Jinwoo started looking at his own face with more and more disdain. 

It was also around this time that Seunghoon first became a trainee. Seunghoon was a lanky teenager who wore a retainer for dance practice and never missed an opportunity to make a joke. Some of the other boys didn’t like him, saying that he had better chances because he was on television, that he was one of YG’s favourites. They laughed at Seunghoon’s joke, but their chuckles had a sharp, jealous edge.

Jinwoo thought he was a life-saver. The other trainees were all on the edge of breaking down. Seunghoon brought laughter back into the practice room. Instead of copying other dance routines for practice, Seunghoon would make his own. He was energetic and different. He was a breath of fresh air that Jinwoo breathed in gladly.

One day, Jinwoo had secluded himself into his favourite corner in his favourite hoodie and drank his double-shot cold espresso. This was a break for him, he trained 8 hours that day and was hoping for at least 3 more before he ventured back to the dorm to try and sleep a little. All the other trainees had called it a day and gone out for dinner. But Seunghoon had decided to stay back and go over the routine he was choreographing one more time.

Seunghoon gave him a jovial smile as he fiddled around with his iPod and turned on the music. It was better to watch, Jinwoo decided, at least he could learn something while he rested. Jinwoo didn’t like doings things that had no purpose. It made him antsy. So he sat there, twitching as the caffeine did its work, and watched Seunghoon dance.

Seunghoon’s body was thin and willowy but strong. He moved like the music was wind through his bones, whisking his limbs in its tantalizing gale. Jinwoo felt as jealous as he was awed — why couldn’t his body move that way?

Seunghoon danced the same way he talked, curious and excited, boyish and whimsical, strong and eloquent. Maybe Jinwoo was the same, maybe he talked with his body too — skittish and tired and stuttering. He thought he danced like he wanted to hide.

It was as if Seunghoon could read his thoughts, stopping mid-step and looking over to where Jinwoo was huddled up in the corner of the room.

“Get up. I know how to make choreography but you can help me learn how to teach it,” He had said, hoisting Jinwoo up with strong hands.

Patiently, Seunghoon guided Jinwoo through all the choreography, joking and encouraging the whole way, even when Jinwoo stumbled or messed up. Soon enough, Jinwoo and Seunghoon moved in tandem, their shirts damp with sweat, the mirrors fogged up in the small practice room. Jinwoo almost felt graceful as he matched Seunghoon’s smooth movements step-for-step.

“You did good, Jinwoo,” Seunghoon had said to him, afterwards, as they walked back to the dorm together. “You always sell yourself too short.”

“Yeah?” He responded, hardly daring to believe it.

Seunghoon nodded and slung an arm around his shoulders. “Anyone can learn how to make their bodies move to music,” He said as they walked slowly. “But not everyone knows how to let the music move _them._ ”

It had been a long time since he had received any praise. YGE didn’t believe in praising their trainees. They wanted strength, poise, and talent. They wanted their artists to ooze an unattainable cold sophistication. They wanted them to have an edge, in all regards.

Jinwoo’s edges often felt brittle, chipping off to reveal the soft, smooth, _weak_ parts of him. He was nothing like idol they wanted him to be.

“You’re not like the other trainees,” Seunghoon told him as they waited for the elevator. “You’re not as harsh. You don’t seem as desperate.”

“I feel pretty desperate,” Jinwoo admitted, shoving his hands into his pockets and idly kicking at the floor.

“The others are so desperate that it makes them cruel,” Seunghoon explained and Jinwoo could feel the heat of his gaze, spreading up his neck and reddening his cheeks. “You want this, just like the rest of us, maybe even more than most of us. But you stay kind. That’s not something to scoff at.”

Jinwoo didn’t know what to say so he didn’t say anything at all as the elevator rose to their floor. The ding of the doors opening made him jump.

Seunghoon laughed and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“You’re something else, Kim Jinwoo,” He said. “You’re a rock.”

He walked ahead of him, not looking back as he rummaged through his pockets for his keys, as Jinwoo stared at his back, trying to understand his words. Quietly, Seunghoon entered the dorm, Jinwoo following behind him.

Then YG announced that he would soon be debuting a boy group. Teams were made, broken, and then remade. It often ended in tears as more and more boys left. Somehow, Jinwoo clung on.

Team A was formed, a group of five, and Jinwoo still couldn’t believe that he had managed to be in their midst. He felt terrified that he would be the one to cause their demise. He felt a little bit better that Seunghoon was with him, with his steadying hands and bright smile.

The night after they became WINNER, Jinwoo wondered what it might be like to kiss that bright smile. Jinwoo shook that thought from his mind. Now was not the time — they had a debut to prepare.

The last time someone touched him was New York when they were filming for their debut. The five of them had pleaded their managers to give them some freedom, if only for one night. After explaining that no one knew them yet and that this would probably be their last chance to explore a new place without too much trouble, the managers finally relented upon the condition that they wouldn’t drink, smoke, do drugs, talk to strangers, or do anything stupid (“You don’t trust us at all, do you?” Seunghoon said, laughing dryly). They were ordered to check in with their manager every hour and to return to the hotel by 3:00 am at the latest. With that, they were sent off into the humid air of a midsummer New York sunset.

Deciding to purposely get lost in the city (his phone charged and ready with unlimited data and Google maps, of course), he walked aimlessly through the tall buildings, stopping at various cafes and eateries until he felt stuffed. As he walked, the lights had slowly turned more colourful, the muffled music from inside becoming more and more hypnotic. The conservative clothes worn by passing New Yorkers became more flirtatious and daring. It was like walking through a looking glass. 

He stopped in his tracks when he saw a couple, two women, walking down the streets, hand-in-hand, openly kiss each other. It was so foreign yet still Jinwoo could not curb the jealous twist in his gut, seeing these two people being able love each other where everyone could see them. He felt achingly lonely despite being surrounded by hundreds of people. It was that jealousy that made him wrench open the door of the nearest gay-bar he could find. He knew he was probably breaking all of the manager’s rules — he was being stupid but he was also feeling rebellious.

It was by that rebelliousness, and most probably the same stupidity, that hours later, Jinwoo found himself pressed up against the back wall of an alleyway, a stranger’s tongue down his throat.

Jinwoo was aware of the danger as he entered the club, of how there was a chance that someone might recognize him, snap a picture, and thus hold the future of his career on their iPhone. He knew he still had to hide even in a huge city like New York. But the man who approached him minutes after entering the bar was big and muscular, lumbering up to him and offering to buy him a drink. He had blue eyes that crinkled as he patiently listened to Jinwoo’s stilted English, chuckling after Jinwoo ordered water with lemon. He invited Jinwoo to dance with him, a broad hand on his waist and Jinwoo had to admit that he enjoyed the feeling of having this gorgeous man’s eyes glued on him in a room full of equally gorgeous people. It was nice to forget and feel beautiful for a little while.

The press of sweaty bodies was intoxicating but quickly tiring and Jinwoo tugged on the man’s hand, leading them outside of the bar into the relatively cool evening air. They walked for a bit, their hands in their pockets, until the man grabbed onto Jinwoo’s wrist and brought him in close.

“I want to take you home,” He said, dragging a promising hand down his side. Jinwoo pushed at his chest, shaking his head and giggling away his abrupt panic at the thought of the others finding out what he was up to. The man chuckled, finding his shyness to be cute. He must have thought that Jinwoo was a tease. 

“At least give me a kiss,” The nameless stranger pleaded, pursing his lips so Jinwoo could understand. “You’re so beautiful. Give me a kiss.”

Jinwoo bit his lip, looking up at the man through his lashes. The man took it as a yes and leaned in. The kisses were sloppy, the hand job that came later equally so. Jinwoo’s hand was cramping by the time the man finally came and the man didn’t even try to reciprocate. He let Jinwoo do all the work of cleaning up and gave him a pat on his shoulder before he sauntered off into the night. 

He took his time on the way back, cursing himself with every step. He was the last to return to the hotel. His manager raised an eyebrow at the t-shirt he just now realized was soaked through with his own sweat.

The others gushed about their nights, oblivious to Jinwoo’s ruffled appearance. Seungyoon had managed to scalp tickets to a concert of some underground punk band. Mino and Taehyun had snuck into a gallery opening and splurged on New York’s top fashion brands. Seunghoon had remained with the managers and had set out to find the worst $1 pizza late night New York had to offer.

“Good, clean, fun,” Seunghoon said, slowly meeting Jinwoo’s eyes before his gaze gave Jinwoo’s body a once over. His smile looked a bit more sour afterwards, like he knew exactly what he had been up to.

“Did you have fun too?” Seunghoon quipped later, a condescending smirk plastered on his face as he watched Jinwoo grab a towel and practically run to the shower. Jinwoo decided it was best not to answer even though his blush most likely gave everything away. He spent more time in the shower than usual, scrubbing at every place the man from the bar had touched him until his skin was sensitive and red. What did Seunghoon care? Seunghoon and his snooping passive-aggressiveness could go fuck themselves.

It was in the shower, the steam billowing around him and his own shaky breathes resounding off the walls, when Jinwoo realized that no one had ever loved him.

He put on clean clothes, enfolded himself in clean sheets, but he still felt dirty. Maybe there was a reason he was unloveable. Maybe he was just a pretty thing to be used and thrown away.

His sleep was far from peaceful.

* * *

Jinwoo watches two tiny chests sink up and down, the nostrils of their button noses flaring with each breath, their little faces scrunching up as their developing minds dream the things only babies can dream.

He wonders what their dreams are like. The objects that they dream about probably don’t have a name yet. At this age, they don’t dream about a tree and think it’s a tree. A baby’s scope of life is so narrow — even _mother_ is not yet mother but instead _warm, safe, good._ The lines between good and bad, yes and no, must be refreshingly stark. He wonders how something so simple is all of a sudden shadowed in the nebulousness of language — a things that somehow allows clarity to quickly become miscommunication. 

Jinwoo is almost jealous of these babies’ ability to dream unambiguously. Jinwoo wakes up from his dreams (on the rare nights that he sleeps long enough to have them) feeling confused and upset, not sure of wether he hates or loves Seunghoon for always appearing in them.

“Is watching people sleep not creepy when they’re babies?” The quiet voice beside him inquires, breaking Jinwoo out of his reverie.

Seunghoon is leaning against the back of the couch, his hair is ruffled, holding his mug of tea, the steam drifting up in graceful tendrils.

“This is nice,” Jinwoo says, ignoring Seunghoon’s teasing. “I finally feel like I have something important to do.”

“It’s kind of peaceful,” Seunghoon observes. “Watching them sleep. They don’t have a care in the world, do they?”

Chuckling, Seunghoon’s mouth turns into a straight line as looks down on the babies’ steady breathing. He watches Taeha and Junwoo in the same way Jinwoo was — like if he stares at them long enough, he’ll be able to look into their dreams and make sense of them.

“When did we start caring?” Seunghoon says after a long time.

“What do you mean?” Jinwoo frowns.

Seunghoon drags a finger across the brim of his mug, back and forth, his gaze unfocused, as he looks for the right words.

“I think there’s a moment when we realize that the world doesn’t necessarily want us to be happy — that we have to fight for it ourselves. We care so much about being happy but happiness is fleeting. When you’re a baby, all you really care about is being warm, being fed, being clean. It’s simple. Happiness is so simple for them.”

“I don’t know,” Jinwoo replies. “They care about being loved too, don't you think? The only way they’ll stay warm, be fed, be cleaned, is if someone loves them enough to take care of them. Like you said to Taehyun earlier, that’s why they’re so cute. It’s their biological imperative to be loved. Being loved is the purest form of happiness, isn’t it?”

“But that’s innate,” Seunghoon counters. “If it’s a biological imperative to be loved, if only to survive, then that’s evolutionary, right? Then why do we dress up nicely, talk a certain way, do innumerable amounts of dumb shit just to get someone to love us? To attract a mate?”

Seunghoon runs a frustrated hand through his hair, making it even more messy than before. 

“Look,” He explains. “If love is just a means for survival, then that’s easily fulfilled. Just settle for the first girl you fuck, procreate, and then take care of your brood. It would be a waste of time to spend your life looking for the _right one_ if we’re just trying to continue the species. But we’re romantics. We want to find our soulmates. We get heartbroken. We break other people’s hearts. There has to be something that goes beyond copulation and procreation. The way we love is idiotic if it’s just a means for survival. It’s a waste of time. So when did we start to care about something that transcends survival?”

And Jinwoo thinks, he thinks for a long time. He thinks about how Seunghoon always leaves Jinwoo’s room right after they have sex. How each time Seunghoon carefully closes his door, the empty pit in the centre of Jinwoo’s chest seems to widen. It hurts each and every time but Jinwoo still can’t help but melt every time Seunghoon kisses him.

“Maybe we feel like we have to work for love,” Jinwoo says slowly, measuring each word. “I think we _do_ need love to survive, but maybe, somewhere along the line, we stopped believing we deserved it.”

And Seunghoon’s hands start shaking, the tea sloshing over the brim as he avoids Jinwoo’s searching eyes.

“Yeah,” He whispers. “Maybe.”


End file.
